Gullwing Romance
by AFIS
Summary: Grissom's marriage to Sara is crumbling and he finds himself looking for salvation with the woman he could never have, Catherine Willows. As he returns back to Vegas, Gil is forced to make a decision that could change his life forever.


**A/N - **Hello, readers. This story will serve as an example to future writers the consequences of letting a story sit on your hard-drive for too long. After three months of off-and-on effort to get this thing finished, finally the product of all of my labors is in postable condition. I wish I could say I had fun writing this beast, but I'm not going to lie to fuel my large ego. I hope you have more fun reading than I did writing.

P.S. - Not going to ask for reviews since getting solid reviews on this website is like trying to pull teeth from a baby. It's impossible. If you review, I love you. If you don't review, I still love you...just not as much.

Disclaimer: I have no interest to own these characters, CBS. Thanks for letting me play with them for awhile without sicking your legal team on me.

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><p><strong>Gullwing Romance<strong>

Grissom had always hated flying. Humans weren't born with wings, so why must we constantly find new ways to go higher at faster speeds while expecting a similar increase in comfort? The annoying electronic cackle telling the residents on the plane that Las Vegas was only thirty minutes away pushed another wave of nausea up his throat. Why was he sitting on this plane, rushing to get back to Vegas like his life depended on it? Catherine, that's why. His whole sense of self, as of late, revolved around her.

Catherine Willow's eyes had always been able to demand his attention like no one else's could. Gil Grissom could never quite pinpoint what about Catherine attracted him, maybe it was the overwhelming sense of self-restraint from the both of them whenever they talked or was it the way Catherine saw right through his oblivious nerdy exterior to the weak man underneath? Whatever the reason, Grissom found himself needing, craving, and obsessing over her. Immediately following his departure from Vegas, Gil found his obsession for Catherine subsiding…until, Sara returned back to Vegas and began to regale him with a never-ending supply of stories involving the very woman he was trying so hard to avoid. Grissom was, in the beginning, entertained to hear what she was up to in his absence, but as his heart-stopping, mind-numbing, and emotionally exhaustive fantasies returned, Gil had to tell Sara to stop. His idiotic excuse concerning his limited cellphone minute plan was enough to placate his wife, but it was no use trying to placate his own tormented psyche; Pandora's Box had been opened.

Sleep was out of the question. Each breathe that Grissom had willed into his lungs at night blazed with the intensity of a thousand burning suns. He was on fire and it felt miserably good. During his lectures at the Sorbonne, Grissom's eyes would close in exhaustion before snapping open again after feeling Catherine's skin kissing his own as she whispered sweet nothings in his ear, her hot words encapsulating his paralyzed body in an embrace of pure unbridled want. Grissom had never felt the embarrassment of running out of a crowded lecture hall with a raging erection before…until that day, several weeks ago. This obsession he had for Catherine was wrong, maybe even a little sick; not to mention slightly incestuous, given their brother/sister relationship.

"Sir, do you need something before we land? You don't look so good," The flight attendant making the final rounds of the passengers asked pleasantly before lightly touching Grissom's shoulder.

With a slight flinch and a blush of embarrassment, Grissom was forced out of his reverie and looked up at the 40-watt smile of the youthful flight attendant, "I'd appreciate some water and Alka-Seltzer, if you don't mind."

The flight attendant's lips curled up into an even larger smile before nodding and walking off with a peppy attitude in her step. She walked behind the curtain separating the small area between first class and business class while Grissom squirmed uncomfortable in his chair in an effort to rid himself of another unwanted erection.

With his sudden hormonal level of an adolescent, it wasn't surprising that even his slightly oblivious wife began to notice his exhaustion and pent-up sexual tension in their daily Skype conversations. Sara had even gone as far as to directly ask him what was going on, but Gil found that he couldn't discuss it with her. He wanted to; no, needed to discuss this sudden upsurge of sexual feeling for Catherine, but he just couldn't admit to Sara that this attraction was swiftly evolving into lust.

The clinking sound of the flight attendant setting down a napkin for his bottle of water and medicine woke Grissom up for a second time. He immediately began ripping into the small metallic packet and took the small powdery pills dry before attempting to return the same brilliant smile back to the flight attendant.

"Sir," A slight chuckle exited her mouth before she leaned down and whispered into Grissom's ear. "Aspirin really isn't going to solve that obvious problem you're dealing with…in your pants. If you want I can see if any of the male attendants know the best way to handle umm…it before we land?"

"No…no, that's fine, miss. I'll have it under control by the time we land," Grissom laughed before smiling casually at the flight attendant, "it's been awhile since I've seen…the Vegas lights, so I guess I'm just really excited…to see them again. Sorry, for the embarrassment."

Grissom looked away dismissively from the flight attendant before a heavy sigh exited from his throat. His hot breathe coated the cool glass of the airplane and, discomfortingly, his hand traced out the name that he wanted so much to whisper at night. He had to do something about this attraction; no longer could he stand neutral on this issue. With a sudden pulse of determination, Grissom texted Sara that he would be visiting his mother before coming home from the flight and her answering frown was almost enough for him to change his plans…almost.

The Vegas lights came into view as the fasten seatbelts light dinged and the captain began his asthmatic droning about the weather, time, and the potential for turbulence on descent. The never-ending supply of twinkling spheres of multicolored neon lights seemed to map Gil toward Catherine. He knew that lying to his wife and potentially committing adultery were horrible acts against the sanctity of their relationship, but he had to do this. Sara would either understand his actions or she wouldn't. Nothing else mattered now. All Grissom could hope for was acceptance as the slight hydraulic sound of the lowering wheels filled his ears and lulled his mind to another reverie.

Why was considering cheating on his wife? He loved Sara with ever fiber in his being, but as he felt the blinding artificiality of the Las Vegas strip seep into the part of his soul he thought he had buried three years ago, all he found himself wanting was her. Sara's continuous efforts to woo him with her playful, but miserably monotonous displays of her sexuality weren't enough anymore to keep Grissom's interests. Nothing could replace the feel of Catherine; those waves of gold dancing on his cheeks when she leaned in to tell him some juvenile joke Lindsay created as her warm hands ran their way up his arms in an innocent gesture of the intimacy gained with a long-lasting friendship…it was like a drug. With the slight jolt of the plane landing on the runway, Gil realized why he was attracted to Catherine.

Sara had always been the unattainable. She was the reflection of the same mystery he felt about himself day after day and, in a typical scientist thought, being with Sara was his opportunity to study himself. He would never admit to himself the number of times he had felt himself studying his wife like one of his rare butterflies or his racing cockroaches. Everything involving Sara consisted of following through on the scientific method. Love to the both of them was founded on logical steps that led to inevitable conclusions; lust, sex, and attraction were just hormonal responses to a biological impulse, nothing more and nothing less. If Grissom wanted to have sex with his wife (he stopped calling it "making love" a long time ago), he left a message next to her toothbrush (it had to be next to her toothbrush, trial and error had taught him that leaving it anywhere else would result in nothing short but failure), called her an hour before she left from work (this specific time was also a result of trial and error), and as she walked into the door, he had to let her come to him. Once she ate her bran muffin and drank a glass of soy milk before playing a little fetch with Hank, Sara would come into their bedroom, ignoring him as he continued watching some odd documentary about the behavioral patterns of the Canadian beaver.

They would always start with the same dialogue as Sara sat down to take off her shoes. "How was your day?" he would ask with little real interest.

"Nothing too difficult," she said before leaning over Gil's prone body, taking the remote to the television, and turning off the documentary that was no longer being watched, "I got into a little argument with Nick about this hoarder woman but other than that it was pretty routine. Did you walk Hank earlier? He seemed kind of hyper when I walked in earlier."

Grissom turned his head away from the back of Sara's head before rolling his eyes, "The only reason he's hyper is because he knows you come home at this time. I don't know how many times I have to tell you that, Sara."

"Yeah…I guess you have, haven't you?" Sara stated before a heavy silence descended upon the two of them like a fog. "I'm going to take a shower. I smell like decomp."

Grissom knew that he had to let the water run for exactly five minutes before getting up to enter the bathroom (if he entered any earlier, she would be annoyed that he interrupted her winding-down period and if her entered any later, she would be completely out of the mood for any sort of sexual activity). Sometimes she wasn't in the mood and would have the bathroom door locked but usually she would allow him to enter.

The blast of warm opaque steam when he entered the bathroom used to arouse Grissom with the mystery of the unknown. Each step made his breathing hitch as Grissom's burgeoning erection pulsated with each step. When he pulled the shower curtain back and saw her glistening pale form waiting for him and only him…Grissom remembered feeling an enormous surge of relief that this wild force of nature had allowed him to tame her long enough to call her his wife.

But he hardly felt that way now.

Now it was a struggle for him to even appear interested when she walked into the door after work. The passion was gone, the love had evaporated into a shamble of its former self, and, for the first time, he felt himself emotionally detaching himself from Sara like a plug from a socket in the wall. Somewhere along the way of their relationship, they had devolved from lovers that knew everything about each other to college roommates with nothing in common besides similar fields of study. It was remarkably simple when phrased in Grissom's mind, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt any less to say it aloud in an empty townhouse. He couldn't even imagine telling Sara that he wasn't in love with her anymore.

Everything was different. When he did manage to get aroused enough to her lame attempts at sexuality, their sex was like a physical representation of the emotional pain that they couldn't bring themselves to talk about. He pounded into her as the tears he wished would fall didn't, she scratched any piece of his flesh that she could find in an effort to make him feel anything…something to prove that Grissom wasn't leaving her, and when they came, it was out of their bodies' reluctance not mutual ecstasy. Several moments of heavy breathing would pass as they returned to their separate spheres of influence and resumed functioning individually.

Sometimes he would go and make a sandwich or Sara would lock herself into her study. On some of these nights of forced intimacy, Grissom would hear a small sob of distress emanating from somewhere in the house. The slight shuddering howls of turmoil echoed throughout the townhouse and pushed the tears down Grissom's face. His own answering moans of distress broke from his lungs as Sara's repressed misery melded with his own. Several hours of commiseration would continue and Sara would come out of her study with reddened eyes.

"This…this sucks," Sara said with a frown.

"I know," he sighed exhaustively before looking up at her puffy red face and turning away, "Trust me, I know."

"Listen, is it me? Am I not enough for you anymore because I can pick things up some toys up that might spice things up?"

Grissom laughed before shaking his head and giving Sara the other half of his sandwich that she'd been eyeing. "It's not you…it's me. I've just been tired with married life lately. It has nothing to do with you though; I can't emphasize that enough, Sara."

He never knew whether she believed him or not. It was wrong to the both of them to keep this sham of a marriage going (even Hank was starting to look sullen when the two of them tried to maintain some sort of civility to each other by having lunch together), but he couldn't bear the idea of Sara leaving him alone. Gil hated seeing Sara miserable, but, more importantly, he hated being the object of her misery.

With this self-pity came Catherine. She came onto the scene when he came back to Vegas the first time to help Sara move into his townhouse. They were still in the newlywed stage of their marriage but even then Grissom could feel the boredom growing in between the cracks. The fantasies returned and along came the uncontrollable hard-ons that came with those fantasies. Grissom had to do something about this…mental affair he'd been having. The plane began turning on the lights in preparation for everyone to disembark. It was time, time for him to deal with some business involving a certain blonde that had been running through his mind.

Catherine was the itch he wasn't supposed to scratch, but he always found himself scratching it anyway. It was wrong, immoral, and dishonest to the trust Sara had given him when they had exchanged vows, but never in his life had he been so frustrated with his inability to act on his own needs. Every second with Sara felt like he was trapped in a gilded cage and his only escape plan was with a wisp of a fantasy that had no chance of becoming a reality. Grissom couldn't control the overwhelming sense of dread that bubbled up in his throat as he admitted to himself that his carefully constructed life was nothing but a sham.

The world was closing around him as he managed to exit from the rental car, crawled toward the twinkling façade of welcoming windows full of blinding light and warmth, and rang the doorbell of _her_ home. She had to be home…she just had to be there, goddamnit. She had to be held accountable for her actions but, more importantly, Grissom needed her to take this pain away; all he needed to hear was the simple validation that what he was feeling was normal, everything was going to be okay, and more importantly, his marriage to Sara was going to be okay.

A small click announced her presence as the bright red door opened to Catherine's home. With a sigh of relief, Catherine reached out and gave Grissom a hug that made up for the hundreds of days he had endured with little more than his hands and a bottle of lubricant.

"Sara told me tonight that you were coming home," she said before leaning back from the friendly embrace and giving him a mock frown, "It's about time you came back. I was starting to think you were avoiding me."

Grissom could barely breathe; nonetheless speak, as Catherine's breasts pushed against his exhausted frame. God, what he wouldn't do to just reverse time so he could have one shot with this modern Aphrodite in his arms. Despite his distraction, Grissom began to feel the stirrings of another unexpected erection flooding in his groin and with haste he pushed Catherine back into the warm brightness of the house.

"Umm…do you think you could, if you don't mind, feed me? I didn't really eat much on the plane besides Alka-Seltzer, peanuts, and ginger-ale. You know how much…"

"Planes make you physically ill? Yeah, I remember the last time I had to catch a red-eye with you to Denver for a case…worse hour and a half of my life, by the way. But continue."

"Yeah…anyway, I'd really appreciate a hot meal." Grissom's stomach growled expectantly before the slight ding sound of Catherine's microwave announced that her meal had finished cooking. "Preferably something that doesn't come out of microwave, please? I'd rather eat Sara's reconstituted soy meat milk cookies than whatever that smell is telling me you just finished cooking."

"If you keep talking like that, all you'll end up getting is a cold shoulder, Mr. Gilbert Grissom." She said flirtatiously before turning to walk into her kitchen. "Hey, come on, Gil! Do you want me to feed you outside like a dog or are you coming in? Besides, you're letting all of the heat out and I pay good money for that heat, thank you very much."

With a touch of hesitation, Grissom walked over the threshold to Catherine's home for what felt like the first time. All of his problems with Sara and his marriage didn't matter. For the first time, in a long time, he felt his body relaxing as the warm homely atmosphere strolled into his pores before grabbing onto his soul in a tight embrace of bliss. Grissom's eyes landed onto a framed picture that Warrick had snapped of Catherine giving him a surprise kiss and his blushing face at the annual Fourth of July softball tournament/picnic for the lab, all he wanted was _that_ back. Catherine was still mostly unchanged from all those years ago while Sara had undergone a whole personality shift after the incident with Natalie. Maybe that was why he found himself craving Catherine; she was a throwback to that old era that was forever lost in the wind of the past. Grissom could care less about the why. All he wanted was her.

He couldn't help staring at her as she worked around the kitchen trying to find something to cook that didn't involve the microwave. Catherine's strawberry-blonde hair danced elegantly upon her shoulders and glowed with the fluorescent aura of the kitchen lights. Suddenly, his eyes caught hers as time stood frozen. Long repressed electric currents of intentions travelled wordlessly between them as her black pupils swallowed the blue of her widened eyes in response to the sudden burst of sexual energy flowing outward from their overheated bodies. There was no denying his intentions now. They were made perfectly clear with just one glance.

Catherine cleared her throat slightly as her eyes twitched around the expanse of her kitchen as if she was seeing it for the first time. "I haven't gone to the store yet...I don't have much to cook you. I don't know what you want."

Grissom's eyebrows crinkled as his face managed to reflect the control his body seemed to lack. "I don't want much…just something to make me forget for a little while."

"This isn't right, Gil."

"But you want it just as badly as I do, don't you." Grissom stated before standing up from the kitchen stool and walking over to touch the pale skin that had been teasing him since he arrived.

Moments of silence spread over the two of them as Grissom began to play with the light sprinkling of hair on Catherine's arms. He couldn't bear to look her in the eyes without pushing her against the wall and having his way with her. Grissom's craving had matured into an intense ball of burning lust that could only be extinguished with the feel of her velvety wet folds creating irresistible friction to his burgeoning erection.

"We need to talk, Gil," Catherine whispered before breaking away from Grissom, leaving him in the kitchen alone. He turned to watch her sit on the couch and quietly turn off the television before waiting patiently for him to come over and sit with her.

Grissom felt like he was in the doghouse for some reason but he liked being in the doghouse. At least he felt something with Catherine other than monotony. Anything was better than the boring sensation that he frequently trudged through when doing the simplest actions with his wife.

Catherine sat across from him and cocked her head to the side with an all-knowing smirk that contained, to him, the promise of better things to come. He was positively speechless as the dimmed lights in the living room made Catherine appear even more goddess-like.

"So," the silence evaporated as Catherine started to ask a question, "how was Paris? Was it as marvelous as people say or was it overrated?"

Grissom lifted his head in response and struggled to find his voice. "Umm…it was uhh, something alright. You know what they say about Paris, you either fall in love with it immediately or you hate it immediately."

Catherine laughed before standing up and walking toward his seat on her comfortable tweed couch; as usual, Grissom's body tingled as those damn pools of blue began burning holes into his flesh. His chest stated to heave in order to restrain his nerves when Catherine kneeled down at his feet and looked up at him with that knowing smile that was uniquely hers.

"Did you fall in love with her immediately or did you hate her enough to run away?" Catherine mused to herself before her spindly fingers felt the hem of Grissom's tan khakis. The soft trails of burning heat that those talented fingers left behind made it impossible for him to focus on anything but receiving more of that tantalizing teasing touch. Paralysis had gotten the best of him, however, as Grissom tried to figure out the oddity of Catherine's question. He had no idea why Catherine was being so vague about something she clearly wanted to talk about. If anything, she was normally the one that was direct around him. With a firm tug on a loose string, Grissom woke up from Catherine's touch induced trance and shook his head in an effort to find the appropriate response to her question.

"I never hated it, I mean, her…I just needed a break from her." Grissom sighed heavily before rubbing his temples as he struggled to understand just who exactly they were talking about at the moment. "Catherine is this about Paris or is this about you, because I never ran away from you. Sara left and I was so tired of all the death…my leaving had nothing to do with you."

"You're right," she muttered just loud enough for him to hear when her slight tugging of his hem suddenly stopped, "you didn't run away from me, you ran away from what we could have had. You remember what you told me after Sara left; after you finished crying into my couch cushions? You told me that you needed someone who could understand the 'real Gil Grissom', someone who wasn't 'as fucking screwed up as you times two'. You needed someone like me, but what happened? Did she blow your mind that first night in Costa Rica so much that you forgot that you promised me that you'd be back? Who knew Sara was so brilliant in the bedroom? I've always thought she was a bit of a prude, but that's just me. Guess I was wrong, huh?"

"What are you talking about? I was depressed and looking for any kind of emotional outlet I could find to give me," Grissom yelled before stopping to look away from Catherine's guarded eyes, "some kind of release from the sadness I'd been building up in my heart."

She shifted slightly against his leg as he let her fiery eyes meet his saddened ones. "So I was just a substitute for a woman you weren't ready to make the leap for? Maybe you should have told me that earlier before you started making empty promises."

Silence descended upon the room for a second time like a dense fog; it was full of the frustration that Grissom felt for himself. When he'd made that promise to Catherine that'd he be back all those years ago, he was drunk on self-pity and depression. He had meant what he'd said but Grissom knew that in retrospect he wasn't ready to act on that subtle declaration. Grissom didn't expect Catherine to take his promise seriously. Hell, even he didn't take it seriously at the time either. For what felt like the millionth time in his life, Grissom was absolutely stunned speechless on how to handle a woman's emotions. He wanted to give her comfort, but had no idea what that comfort was or even how to begin offering it. He wanted to say that he was sorry but didn't really want to either.

They both sighed in frustration before Catherine looked back up at him with the same mask that she used when interrogating suspects. "Grissom, do you want to sleep with me?"

Grissom's eyes shifted slightly to the right giving her the answer she needed before he even had a chance to respond. "Grissom, this is a one-time deal. I'm not going to be your fuck-buddy on the side or your secret addiction because I know those rarely end well for both parties involved. I hate that you led me to believe something that you knew you were never going to follow through on but, honestly, I don't care. I don't know if you've noticed in all the years we've worked together but I'm attracted to you. I know that you're married, but I need to do this with you so I can move on to someone else. You know that I've been single since you left? Well, that's because I've been waiting on you like some puppy left at the pound and I'm tired of it. What Sara doesn't know, won't kill her."

"How do_ you_ know what won't kill _my_ wife?" Grissom muttered sarcastically under his breath.

"Well, Gil, I just talked to her and she seemed pretty alive and well to me and I'm sure you haven't told her about that secret you told me eight years ago. You know…the secret concerning the bees?"

"Can we not bring that up? Sometimes I regret telling you that…one of these days it's going to come back to haunt me. So, how do we start…this uh 'one-time thing'?" Grissom coughed slightly before his hands instinctively starting flowing toward Catherine's beaming skin. "I'm not really used to initiating sexual encounters since Sara's usually the one wearing the pants, so to speak, when it comes to sex."

She stood up and grabbed Grissom's shoulders. "Men…they're all the same when it comes down to it. They all want what they can't have and then when they have the chance to grab the forbidden fruit, they act like they don't know what to do with it. Come on, Gil, by the end of the night you'll know how to start me up like no other man has."

Grissom had spent years admiring her simple elegance from afar. Even now as he shuffled toward her luminescent skin that reflected the same Vegas lights he had tried so hard to get away from, Grissom felt disconnected from his body. Catherine's beauty was all encompassing, it was impossible to concentrate on anything but those marvelous lines that made up her sensuous curves.

Those midnight-blue eyes were like freshly cleaned headlights as they flashed brilliantly, catching every detail of Grissom's body. She turned around and beckoned his warm touch on her silvery frame.

With her permission granted, Grissom grabbed onto her arms and with a single forceful push, Grissom found himself lying upon the same curves and lines that had him mesmerized earlier. Nothing could stop his fingers from tracing across the expanse of cloth covered flesh that has teased him for decades. He briefly recognized the seemingly never-ending wail of ambulances pounding outside the walls of her home, which briefly made his body seize up as he was reminded of all of the death and despair that had contributed to his leaving Vegas; all of those memories were soon forgotten as Catherine pushed Grissom off of her and proceeded to remove the cloth barriers holding her marvelous skin hostage from him.

"I want you to focus on me, nothing else." Catherine whispered with an alluring smile that nearly broke what little resolve Grissom had to sleep with his best friend. With a shaky sigh he reminded himself to be gentle; he couldn't bear to hurt her any more than he already had.

But it didn't matter; Grissom's resolve had been shaken. "I can't do this, I just can't hurt you like this, Cath. If we sleep together, all I'm going to end up doing is hurting you, maybe not now but eventually."

"If you think sleeping with you is going to hurt me, you don't know me very well. I've slept with far worse characters than you, Mr. Grissom. And don't think this is all about you getting_ your_ fantasy fulfilled. This is about_ me_ getting you out of my system, once and for all. Don't make this into something more than it really is, Gil." Her smile faded briefly before her face flashed an emotion Grissom couldn't place but knew very well. Despite her feminine bravado, he knew that their impending actions were going to hurt her more than he could possibly imagine, but he knew that Catherine had made up her mind about sleeping with him. Nothing could change her mind.

She beckoned him to her skin again and as the various neon beams of light hit Catherine's shivering torso, all of Grissom's remaining logic focused on her. It was almost too much for his mind to process. Despite being naked in front of her open blinds for the whole world to see, Catherine seemed positively radiant and confident as her body pulsated with pure desire and raw feminine energy.

Their hands collided as Grissom hands began seeking out Catherine's flesh while she rushed to take off his own clothes. He smiled in amusement as her face turned red from frustration. "Catherine, there's no need to get frustrated. We have all night. I told Sara that I wanted to visit my mother first and that I'll be around to the house tomorrow evening."

Catherine's hands dropped to the sheets in pleased resignation as she leaned back in patient preparation for the removal of the final barriers keeping them apart. With several determined tugs, his clothes were strewn around Catherine's bed before his hands began to paint invisible lines on her silvery lines and curves. A surprised gasp forced its way out of her throat as his hands graced along a particularly sensitive spot on her back. Endless minutes of soft probing and caressing created a slight sheen across their skin.

"Gil…please," she whimpered softly as his hands continued their slow journey down her body, "stop teasing me, I've been ready for this for too long."

Catherine's legs opened for Grissom; he couldn't stop himself from licking his lips in reaction to the overwhelming lust burning trails through his veins. His hands started to shake like reeds in the wind as her unique femininity tickled his nose hairs.

"Do you have, umm, some kind of protection that I can use? Last thing I need is a little Gil running around with your temper." Grissom managed to growl out of his sealed mouth. Locking her legs around his waist for leverage, she moved her upper body toward the end of the bed before lifting her arm back to open her nightstand drawer. Her fingers danced in the dark space of the drawer before grabbing onto an aluminum packet.

"Here you go." Catherine said before Grissom grabbed the packet from her fingers and seized her hips from the edge of the bed. "Now, would you like me to put in on for you, or do you think that'll be too much sensation for your manhood to take?"

Soft hands caressed his body as he lowered his body over her beauty after rolling the condom onto his straining masculinity that was craving for attention.

"Now that you're ready, Gil," she said with an eyebrow raised in a semi-challenge, "I want you to fuck me. Fuck me like you're not married. Fuck me like you always wanted to, all those years ago when I was married to Eddie. Think you can do that, stud?"

Grissom's answering Catherine's question with a groan that followed his quick penetration of her upholstered reddened folds. A scream of satisfaction pulled itself out of her throat as he inserted his key fully into her ignition box. Nothing could ever feel as good as sliding through her velvety tightness. Each moan that came from Catherine mouth made it harder for him not to reciprocate with his own primal noises.

Tucking his head in the crook of her neck, Grissom began to bite onto Catherine's ruddy flesh, but it was no use as the constricted sob he had tried so hard to hold back, forced itself out of his throat. Inane mutterings flew out of his throat and into her ears as each thrust made the droplets of sweat flood down Grissom's face. God, he was so unbelievably close. Between his animalistic moans and Catherine's passionate entreaties to the scream gods, Grissom knew the neighbors would be coming over soon. But, thank god, he could tell from the small clenches around his member that she was closer to reaching the finish line than he was. After several hard thrusts, he heard a small sound in the back of his ears that sounded like Catherine finally coming and a split second later the impossibly tight contractions of her sex made movement impossible. With each contraction, Grissom found himself lifted off to higher and higher heights of pleasure as stars exploded before his eyes. He travelled on a sea of overwhelming bliss to a heaven of perfection. This was exactly what Grissom needed. Nothing could ever be better than…

"Grissom, wake up honey. We're going to be late. Gil, where are you?"

Sara walked toward their townhouse's garage in a last ditch effort to find her husband. He'd been gone all day, but it was unusual for him to disappear for several hours without leaving a note. She creaked open the door and found him sitting inside his vintage Mercedes-Benz 300SL, taking a nap.

"Gil, what are you doing?" Sara whined slightly before rolling her eyes in frustration. "Everyone's going to be coming for your Welcome-Back party, which it's going to be kind of hard to have, if you're taking a nap in the garage, unless you want us to move the party out here?"

Grissom yawned with a sleepy smile. "Sorry, I guess I was dreaming about something or other."

Her eyebrow raised in disbelief as a smirk crossed her face. "I have a nagging feeling that your dream had something to do with sex, since you're sporting a massive boner at the moment. Please, for your sake and mine, could you please deal with your 'situation'? The last thing I need to hear is snide comments about our sex life…from Greg and company."

The restrained feeling in his pants came to his attention as Grissom looked down at his clothing covered erection before his mind briefly registered the echoing sounds of Sara's laughter. He couldn't believe that everything that had happened was just a well-constructed dream. Grissom turned around briefly to look at his antique car and chuckled to himself. This wasn't the first time that he had drifted away while working on his Mercedes-Benz, and it certainly wasn't going to be the last. Catherine was supposed to be coming over for his welcome home party and he just couldn't get enough of those eyes. Those eyes could launch a million ships.

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><p><strong>AN Pt2 - **So...how'd you like reading my 6k words of Cath/Gil goodness? Hated my interpretation of GSR? Found the ending to be completely crazy? Didn't understand something? Well, send me a PM or, better than that, review and I should get back to you to clear anything up/discuss whatever's on your mind concerning my story. Thanks for reading! :)


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